


crystal ballin'

by blamefincham



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamefincham/pseuds/blamefincham
Summary: Logically, Luc knows that the success of the Columbus Blue Jackets doesn’t rest entirely on his shoulders.That knowledge doesn’t stop him from wanting to help the team in whatever way he can, though and...while he pretty much has the hockey thing on lock, when he finds out on Christmas that they’ve lost Cam to injury too, Luc can’t help but wonder if there’s something else he can do.Hewasalways top of the class in Magic.





	crystal ballin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [escherzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/gifts).



> You asked for hijinks and disaster rookies in love, and that's...what you got. :) I hope it makes you laugh!
> 
> Thank yous to be edited in after reveals.

Logically, Luc knows that the success of the Columbus Blue Jackets doesn’t rest entirely on his shoulders.

This isn’t Edmonton or Buffalo; he wasn’t drafted to save the franchise. He was drafted to be the top line center eventually, and he’s already exceeding expectations by playing that role in his first year. That knowledge doesn’t stop him from wanting to help the team in whatever way he can, though and...while he pretty much has the hockey thing on lock, when he finds out on Christmas that they’ve lost Cam to injury too, Luc can’t help but wonder if there’s something else he can do.

He _was_ always top of the class in Magic.

—

He spends what remains of the Christmas break with his nose buried in his old Magic textbooks and, okay, in Google. By the time he gets back to Columbus, Luc has a plan. 

Luc’s conclusion is this: the Jackets have been cursed. Like, literally. Everyone’s playing pretty well and shooting like crazy, but the pucks just aren’t going in. None of the bounces are going their way, and on top of that, guys keep getting hurt in freak accidents. It seems like a basic, low-level Bad Luck Jinx, and that’s something he can break, because he read some instructions on a magic forum about how to do it. 

So on their first off day after the break, Luc spends the morning meditating to strengthen his inherent abilities, just like his teachers always taught him. Then he drives over to Nationwide, lets himself in with a charmed skeleton key he’d made the night before, and gets to work.

Well. Tries to get to work. He’d forgotten to silence his phone, so he’s interrupted fairly early by Sonny texting him “ _hey dude where u at_.” Shit. Was it _today_ they were supposed to hang out? Luc was _sure_ it was tomorrow, but...he’s really bad at dates and times, so...it must have been today.

He’s genuinely bummed, and for a moment he considers packing in the whole thing and going to hang out with Sonny instead. He really likes hanging out with Sonny--like _really_ likes it--but...this is team. This is important. Sonny will understand when he explains it to him later. 

That said, though, Luc can’t think of a good excuse--he can’t just say ‘ _I thought it was tomorrow_ ’ like an idiot--so he puts his phone on silent and doesn’t reply. Sonny will probably just assume he got caught up in a nap or a video game or something and chirp him about it later. No harm done.

The ritual is pretty simple to set up: a few plain candles at carefully-measured intervals in a circle around the logo in the dressing room, a bundle of herbs in Luc’s lap, and Luc gingerly sitting on the logo and focusing. 

He closes his eyes and reaches out with his magic, feeling around the edges of the wards, trying to sense the curse. Luc goes carefully and methodically over every inch of the arena’s magic, because it’s probably most vulnerable wherever it was cast--like in a seat, or the press box--and he doesn’t want to miss it.

After concentrating for what feels like hours...there’s no sign of any curse, jinx, or hex. ‘ _It must be really well-cloaked_ ,’ Luc thinks. He starts combing through the arena again. Then, right behind the home bench, he thinks he feels… something. A ripple, maybe, or a bend in the magic. So he pushes.

Hard.

Maybe a little too hard.

Instead of the satisfying stretching feeling of a cloaking spell evaporating into nothingness, what Luc feels instead is a sharp _crack_.

He almost doesn’t want to go look. 

—

Luc takes his time cleaning up his ritual in the dressing room. He blows out the candles, stashes them and the herbs in the bag he brought them in, and then cleans up his stall a bit. If he dawdles long enough, whatever it is he cracked out on the ice will just...go away, right?

But eventually he runs out of things to tidy, and he drags himself up the tunnel. 

It’s immediately apparent what’s wrong: the wards all along the glass behind the home bench are _shattered_. They’re shot through with spidery cracks like broken glass, and they’re shimmering and shooting sparks of raw magic.

The bottom drops out of Luc’s stomach. That’s exactly what he was worried about, and fuck, wards are high-level magic. He has no idea if this is something he’s going to be able to fix, and when the guys show up for tomorrow’s game...everybody will know what happened. And Luc’s a _terrible_ liar, so they’re all going to know he did it, and fuck, messing with the wards in an arena is big-time against the rules--what if he gets kicked out of the league? Or, at the very least, sent back to juniors to teach him a lesson? 

Luc collapses onto the bench and takes several deep breaths. He’s calm. He’s extremely calm, and he’s going to fix this, damn it. He pulls out his phone, swipes away another message from Sonny (he really should have packed it up and hung out with him instead after all), and googles ‘repair broken ward’. 

The first link is to WikiHow, and--wow, it actually seems helpful. Like, there are step by step instructions, with diagrams, and it doesn’t require any special ingredients. Luc reads through the steps three times, but he’s pretty sure this is something he can do too. This is all going to be fine. He’ll fix the wards, and nobody will be any the wiser. 

Luc crosses his legs, rests his hands on his knees, and starts to concentrate. He’s thinking steady, healing thoughts, focusing his energy before he starts to reach out to the ward, and then—

 _SLAM_.

A door, somewhere in the arena, and Luc almost topples off the bench in fright. He’s not _done_ yet, and someone’s going to _see_ , and—

“Luc?”

Oh thank God, he recognizes that voice; it’s just Sonny. Still, Luc scrambles off the bench and tries to stand in front of the broken ward, because Sonny might not judge him, but it’s still embarrassing. 

True enough, Sonny pops out of the tunnel a few seconds later, a twig balanced on his palm pointing directly at Luc. “There you are,” Sonny says cheerfully. “Dude, wh-- _whoooooa_ , what happened to the ward?” 

Luc sighs, and his shoulders slump. “I broke it on accident,” he says sadly. “I thought, like, there might be a Bad Luck Jinx on the team, so I was trying to find it, and I pushed too hard…but it’s fine, I looked it up and I can fix it! I’ll repair the cracks and nobody will know it was even broken.”

Sonny steps closer and inspects the ward a little. “But, like, the ward will know, right?” he says, thoughtful. 

“What?” Luc says weakly.

“Yeah, dude--all the wards on pro sports arenas have a memory, like, a kind of magical security camera? So if they stop somebody trying to curse the team or something, the team can know who it is and ban them, or whatever.” 

Luc’s heart sinks. “I didn’t know that,” he says, and maybe it comes out a little whiny, but sue him, he’s in deep shit here. 

Sonny turns around and pats Luc on the shoulder consolingly. “It’s all right, man. I’ll help you google.” 

God, Sonny’s smile is as likely to distract Luc as help him, but he’s definitely not going to turn him down.

—

Unfortunately, there’s no simple WikiHow article on wiping the memory of a ward. There are lots of articles about the memories themselves and criminals that have been caught with them, but they can’t find the sort of instructions they’re looking for _anywhere_.

“They’re probably confined to the Deep Web,” Sonny says knowledgeably as he clicks off his phone. 

Luc doesn’t even know what that _is_. He buries his head in his hands and makes an anguished noise, and Sonny pats him on the shoulder. 

“Maybe we could, like, meditate on it? I never did well with step by step stuff,” Sonny says. 

Luc has always only done well with step by step stuff, but they don’t have that, so that seems like as good of an idea as any. He nods at Sonny, pulls his face out of his hands, takes a deep breath, and concentrates. Next to him, he can hear Sonny doing the same thing.

It’s quiet for a long, long time. The quiet buzz of the fluorescent lights is the only sound, but that just means that Luc keeps getting distracted and fixating on it. Finally, he sighs and slumps back against the wall. “It’s not _working_ ,” Luc complains, definitely not whining. 

Sonny makes a sympathetic, noncommittal noise. Luc buries his face in his hands and adds, “I wish using magic to forget was that easy.”

“What do you want to forget?” Sonny says, and oh fuck, Luc thought he wasn’t listening. In fact, he _hoped_ he wasn’t listening, because the thing Luc would like to forget is his big, dumb, embarrassing crush on Sonny. 

“Oh,” Luc says, awkward, pulling his hands away from his face to cross them protectively over his chest. “Um, you know, just--like, you know when you have feelings for someone and they don’t like you back?”

“Oh yeah, dude, I totally know,” Sonny says, sympathetic. 

Luc blinks, surprised. He really can’t imagine Sonny, like, pining. Ever. Sonny seems like the kind of guy who would just go for it if he was interested in someone and move on easily if he wasn’t, which is kind of why Luc hasn’t done anything. If Sonny was interested, he would have made a move already, right?

“It happens to everybody,” Sonny adds, but then he grins, all conspiratorial, and leans in closer to Luc. “But like, your deal...do you have a crush on somebody right now?”

“No, god,” Luc says, but he’s a really bad liar, and his face is bright red. 

Sonny leans in and gives him a noogie. “Rookie’s got a cruuuuuush,” he sing-songs. Which is stupid, because Sonny himself is also technically a rookie, but— “Is it somebody I know? One of your Quebecoise insta babes?” 

“No,” Luc says immediately, trying to wrestle away from Sonny’s noogie, which has now turned into a headlock. “God, it’s… nobody, I… we should focus on fixing the ward.”

Sonny twists around and leans in close to Luc, eyes wide and innocent. “It’s not _me_ , is it?” he says, and he’s clearly joking, but—

Suddenly, one of the fluorescent lights explodes. Like, _explodes_. It’s _loud_. 

Sonny lets go of Luc in surprise, which lets Luc cover his bright red face with his hands again. “Oh shit,” Sonny says softly, and if Luc knew a spell that would let him teleport away or sink through the floor, he would be casting it right now. 

“I’m sorry,” he says miserably. “It doesn’t have to be weird, I—” He stops suddenly when he feels Sonny taking his hands and gently prying them from his face. 

Luc looks up just in time to see Sonny leaning in, and then Sonny is kissing him. 

It’s just a quick, chaste kiss; Luc doesn’t even have time to close his eyes, but it still knocks him off his feet. “What,” he says, breathless, when Sonny pulls away. 

“I had no idea, man,” Sonny says, very seriously, “but like, same. Extremely same.” 

“ _What?_ ” Luc says again, intelligently. “I--I thought I was really obvious.”

Sonny scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I guess maybe? But you’re so earnest about everything, I kind of assumed you were just, y’know, _like that_ , and it wasn’t personal?” 

“I…” Luc starts, not even sure how to respond to that. Thankfully, Sonny kisses him again before he has to finish that sentence. 

Luc still isn’t really sure they’ve talked this through enough, but he’s been dreaming about this for months now, and--sue him, he wants to enjoy it. He slides a hand into Sonny’s hair, and Sonny makes a really great noise, leans closer, and deepens the kiss. 

Honestly, Luc could do this for hours, but after about another minute he tears himself away and says, “Ugh, I want to keep doing this, but we really gotta fix the ward first, Sonny.” 

Sonny sighs, looking disappointed, but he nods. “You’re right,” he says seriously, pulling away from Luc. “I don’t fuck with conjugal visits.” 

Luc laughs but also punches Sonny in the arm. “ _Not_ helping,” he scolds. 

—

The problem is, they’ve kind of already tried the obvious answers. Google didn’t work, meditation didn’t work… 

“Well, we haven’t tried _everything_ ,” Sonny says after another pointless bout of meditation. “When I get high, my magic gets stronger. Weirder, but stronger.” 

Luc stares at him. “So what are you waiting for?”

Sonny laughs, then says, “I mean, I don’t know if I have any…” He starts patting his pockets, then looks victorious as he pulls out a plastic-wrapped square of chocolate. “Ah hah! Saved by the brownie.” 

“We don’t know if we’re saved yet,” Luc points out, but he can’t help smiling anyway. 

“Dude. Have a little faith,” Sonny says. He rolls up his sleeves with great ceremony, runs a hand through his hair, and eats the brownie.

It’s honestly kind of anticlimactic. Luc doesn’t know what he was expecting--he’s shared edibles with Sonny before and there’s never been any shower of sparks or other dramatic magic effect--but still. He considers suggesting they make out again while they wait for the brownie to take effect, but that’s definitely going to end in them being even more distracted, so he keeps his hands to himself and goes back to trying different combinations of keywords on Google.

Several minutes later, Sonny says, “Brooooo,” and Luc looks up, but--he’s not talking to Luc.

He’s talking to the ward.

“Brooooo, my man, Wardy McWardface, how _you_ doin’?”

Luc really, really likes Sonny, but times like this, he has to wonder if Sonny is like...in full possession of his marbles. 

“Yeaaah, that’s what I thought. I’m pretty chill myself,” Sonny says, and it really sounds like he thinks the ward is talking back. “Since you’re chill, you’d be down for doing me a favor, right?” 

There is, obviously, no response from the ward. It’s a _ward_. 

“My man Luc over there...he didn’t mean to, uh, bump you. He’s just so big and buff, you know, doesn’t know his own strength. And he’s gonna put you right, like, right away, but...it would really help us out if you could just, uh, forget this ever happened?”

Once again, the ward does nothing. But Sonny furrows his brow and leans forward, reaching towards the crack. He looks ridiculous, but Luc is kind of fascinated by this whole process.

Very gently, Sonny touches the biggest crack in the ward, and it actually shudders just a little. Luc’s nervous about that, but then it stabilizes, and when Sonny pulls his hand away, something thin and silver is hanging from it. 

Luc’s jaw drops.

“Thank you, man,” Sonny says to the ward happily, patting an unbroken expanse with his free hand. It’s unbroken ward, so the pat goes right through, but it’s apparently the thought that counts. He turns to Luc, waving the piece of silver around, and shouts, “I did it!”

“You did it,” says Luc, awed. And then he kisses Sonny, because holy shit, he kind of can’t not. 

They get distracted making out again, but this time it’s Sonny who pulls away and says, “Okay, but you gotta fix the ward, because I promised it you would.” 

This is so charming that Luc kisses him again, but in addition to being adorable, Sonny’s right. Magical objects have a way of remembering when you break your promises. 

—

The next day, just before warm-ups, they’re so high on their victory (and all the sex they had last night) that they almost miss Torts banging a stick on a whiteboard to call for quiet. 

“Hey fellas,” he says once the team has mostly shut up, “the wards are looking a little weird out there.” Luc’s stomach drops, and he makes eye contact with Sonny, who appears to be thinking the same thing--they did it wrong, they’re going to get caught and kicked out of the league--but Torts is still talking. “So we called in the Metro’s ward intern to take a look at ‘em. If you notice anything funny, let her know and she’ll take care of it.”

Luc turns to Nick, brow furrowed. “Ward...intern?”

“Oh yeah,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “The wards are really over-sensitive. One time Dubi said ‘Bless you’ with a little too much emphasis and it was enough to ping the anti-cheating magic, so. No sense having a high-level spellcaster looking into all those false alarms, y’know?” 

“Makes sense,” Luc says weakly. Nick swats him on the hip affectionately and heads out, and Luc looks over at Sonny--who definitely heard that, because he looks right on the verge of hysterical laughter. 

So maybe there wasn’t a curse. Or a reason to freak out about a broken ward with a magical memory. And maybe Luc should have left this stuff to the professionals in the first place. But as Sonny crosses the dressing room to crack up with him, all Luc’s thinking is that he isn’t going to remember any of this as a mistake. 


End file.
